


Guns Free

by LaughingMcNugget



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Perhaps slow burn, i dont even know man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingMcNugget/pseuds/LaughingMcNugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Fallout 4. Mostly Brotherhood/Institute line. Rating will change in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Third times a charm? This is unrelated to my other series Mother, though it will use the same basic plot maybe?

Knight Rhys was aware of a stinging sensation spreading across his body. Hot. Not sharp. Not fresh? A wound still healing? Probably. Not too terribly distracting though, he could still sleep. Another sensation niggled his consciousness, something cool and smooth running against the heated split across his cheek. Relief. The Knight leaned into it, only to feel it flinch away. His will to chase the small amount of reprieve from the underwhelming heat across his body was nonexistent. The urge-the need-to sleep made his heart slow in preparation to tip off the edge again. A voice snapped somewhere far off, and Rhys couldn’t quite pick up the tone of it. Until a sharp slap made the sting of his cheek ring out clearly across his nerves like a bell through empty air. His eyes peeked open, only for a moment, with a look of mournful tiredness softening them. The offender, a stranger with a hand raised above her, didn’t look like someone who would let him sleep again.

  
“Good.” the darkened figure breathed, just barely audible over the whisper of steel on steel and the constant groans of wood against squishy limbs “You’re still in there. Its time to get up.”

  
Her hand, covered in steely armor that glinted dully in the low light, swung down to lightly slap the man. He groaned, eyes rolling forward in their sockets to blearily glare at the offending force.

  
“I need you awake for medication and assistance, open those eyes soldier!” another slap from the metal hand.

  
Rhys moved to catch it, heart pounding rebelliously fast against his aching lungs. The hand pinned his chest to the ground, and just as a cry of anguish broke the Knight’s bloodied lips, a second hand jammed a needle of Med-x into his neck. The relief was almost instant, and Rhys let his balled fists drop to the floor.

  
“You’re hurt, but you’re going to live. That little medic over there isn’t handling the residual radiation as well as you. If you can, hook her up to this drip and then report.”

  
Rhys, ever the tantrum thrower, growled back at the voice that didn’t belong to his Paladin “I don’t report to you, and even if I did I can’t see a damn thing in this low light.”

  
To his surprise, the other voice huffed in annoyance. Footsteps. A click, followed by soft humming, then the ‘vzzt’ of a prewar lightbulb flickering on sounded in Rhys’ ears. His hand flew up to cover his eyes, and he found himself wincing when his shoulder twinged painfully. The person who had administered first aid to him was most certainly not the Paladin, nor the normal Medical Scribe. In fact, he had no idea who this woman was. Hair an unnatural color of deep red, eyes darkened by a sharp brow and thick eyelashes, and a scar trailing from ear to collarbone before disappearing below the white shirt she wore. Everything about her outfit was unspectacular, aside from the grey stains of ghoul blood.

  
“She’s over there, get a good look because I can’t leave the lights on or more of those-“ the door thumped loudly, and she flinched and flicked the lights back off “-Goddammit.”

  
Swiftly to the point, Rhys dropped his voice to the most intimidating growl he could muster “Who are you?”

  
“Introductions later. There’s a mob of ghouls outside trying to tear apart the front door and your medic is-“ a loud bang against the station door distracted the woman, a look of panic across her face “-hurt, she’s hurt, your Paladin is hurt, mine is trying to stave the bleeding, and I only have two hands. They would be better used securing the perimeter. Get your ass in gear.”

  
As the stranger talked, she paced about in a whirl; of tattered civilian clothes and the stink of death and restless work. The pipboy on her arm clicked angrily, making positive it’s wearer knew the level of radiation pumping around her body as she worked. Her armored hand was in a flurry about a crate of fusion cells while the other wrenched something a bit more powerful than the standard issue rifle about. Empty cells scattered across the floor when the clip was flung open, rolling this way and that. The noise seemed to spur on the beings outside, as gargling, squishy throated wails rung out. Reloaded at last, the rifle hummed to life, and the woman paced towards the barricaded door. The Paladin’s armor stood a silent sentinel against the door, rocking ever so slightly with the thumps against the weathered wood.

  
“Shout if they get inside and I’ll try to come back around. My sidearm is by your bedroll. Its got 12 shots, use them wisely. Brandis! I’m going back out!” With that, the woman wrenched open the back panel of the Paladin’s armor and leapt inside.

  
From a side room, a weak noise of acknowledgement sounded. The door swung open, with it a pile of writhing, ugly, unhuman beings flopped onto the floor. A steel boot raised and fell, squashing the creatures under the mass. A swift kick had the bodies clear of the door, and then the latch clicked shut. Metal clanged outside, and the rifle sang her song of death, each shot lighting up the dark, smudged windows with a red glow. Screams of the irradiated monsters squawked loudly in the compound. The fight, it seemed, was heated. Rhys edged off of his bedroll, the twinge in his shoulder nowhere near the ache in his side as he did so. Though he didn’t trust the woman entirely, one doesn’t dive into the fray of ghouls without earning a smidge of respect, though he’d never admit it. With radaway in hand, the Knight stood, stumbling towards the quivering lump of ginger hair and sickly pale skin on the bedroll just across from his. Haylen was awake, weak and nauseated, eyes glazed from staring blankly at the wall, but awake.

  
“Doc, how do I do this?” in truth Rhys had not done well on his medical training course, and any lessons he had learned were quickly forgotten after his armor had gained its medical attachment.

  
It had been his own fault that the suit was trashed, he couldn’t even put her in that and hope for the best. Damn it. Haylen left the question unanswered, still staring at the wall. Rhys, lost beyond the memory of his armor stabbing the joint of his forearm and upper arm, rolled back the woman’s sleeve. With the paperthin look of the Scribe’s skin, her veins were clearly visible. Dark purple against the grey white. Rhys jabbed the needle into her arm and elevated the bag. Outside, the stranger shouted a battlecry, and the sound of glass shattering was drowned out a moment later by the ‘whoosh’ of fire flaring up. Then the ghouls shrieked. A united, ungodly choir of bloody broken-toothed mouths let out a cry of pain. The fire crackled and raged, and Rhys found himself holding his breath. Then the door swung open. Haylen jumped, just the barest hint of color in her cheeks draining from shock, and attempted to look at the disturbance.

  
“Paladin?” the scribe barely managed to wheeze out towards the tarnished and burnt armor slowly creaking across the threshold.

  
She jumped again when the door creaked shut. The armor disengaged, blocking the door once again and unfolding to reveal the strange woman.

  
Rhys, feeling confident that his aid would hold without him, set the drip down and glowered at the woman “Who are you?! Where is the Paladin?!”

  
The stranger was covered in sweat, the tee-shirt she wore was torn from the mechanics of the armor catching on it, and the strange burgundy shade of her hair sat slicked down her spine. She attempted a smile, and shrugged the butt of her rifle at him “Good to see you got to her. How are you feeling now,  Scribe?”

  
Haylen looked shocked to see a different person step from the armor, though the slight smile that spread afterwards was telltale of trust “Better, Initiate Spencer.”

  
“Initiate? You’re our reinforcements? Where’s the rest of your squad!” Rhys now shouted, standing to confront the stranger and preparing to grapple with her.

  
Another voice came from across the station, commanding but tired, thin and worn, yet compelling “Knight Rhys, stand down.”   
Paladin Brandis, swaying with a limp, broke the shadows from the next room over “Spencer, Paladin Danse is stable as I can get him, and he wants to talk to you when you get the chance.”

  
The woman looked at herself; torn shirt, pants covered in ghoul blood, and her own blood soaking through a few scatteed blisters “May I have a moment to clean up, sir? Or is he still in need of medical attention? If he can hold on, I would rather get the taste of ghoul innards out of my mouth.”

  
Brandis let out a wheezing laugh ”I promise Danse won't judge you on how you look, initiate. But go right ahead. Do hurry though, there is a nonthreatening wound that needs a finer touch than mine.”

  
Initiate Spencer, with haste, grabbed the collar of her shirt behind her neck, and tugged it above her head. Halfway through the threadbare article gave out, and ripped in twain. With a huff, the woman clutched the tattered remains to her chest “Paladin, do we still have an extra uniform?”

  
Not a moment later, Spencer was struck in the gut with an olive grey suit, a hint of sardonic laughter coming from Brandis. Though his joints weren’t as good as they once were, his pitch had not suffered an iota. The shirt fell from her grasp in an effort to catch the incoming projectile, and with it came the seam of her skin where flesh met metal and the thick leather strap that aided in holding her together.

  
“Jesus!” Rhys came close to a wail, trying to find purchase on the side arm he had been gifted “She’s a synth!”

  
“No no!” Spencer dropped the uniform to put both hands out in front of her “Its just the arm! A prosthetic!”

  
Haylen rested a hand on Rhys’ leg “She and Brandis are allies, don’t shoot her.”

  
Spencer shook slightly on her ragged boots, prosthetic hand and organic hand quivering in fear of the weapon pointed at her.   
Rhys reluctantly dropped the handgun and sneered at her “Some backup.”

  
Haylen hazarded a pinch behind the Knight’s knee, and earned a yelp in response. Rhys looked away for a moment to glare down at the ill medic, then snapped back to warily watch the other woman wriggle clumsily into the drab olive uniform. She didn’t have the rank to wear that color. How dare she. After the final snaps clipped over her sternum, Spencer pulled on her gloves and boots, all the while staring down Rhys. With the gloves on, one would not be able to tell that her arm was mechanical; it even looked as though muscles flexed under the grey fabric when she moved to wipe her face with the once tee-shirt. The rag was swept through the damp trail of red that was her hair, some of the dye staining it as she dried and detangled the mess. Rhys watched the rag fall to the floor, as though it were a flag to signal a race. His nerves were as on edge as a thoroughbred. Haylen watched the rag fall as well, and let herself flop back on her bedroll in a similar way. The medic had entirely been exhausted in the course of five minutes.

  
“Spencer. Recon Squad Artemis.” Her prosthetic hand was held out towards the angry Knight “We’ve talked a few times already, but you have some minor memory loss from blunt head trauma.”

  
Rhys stayed silent, ignoring the offered metal hand.

  
“Initiate! Don’t leave the Paladin waiting!”  
Spencer crossed the room, careful to knock her prosthetic shoulder against Rhys’ as she did. A venomous look was exchanged between the Knight and his underling, though the look was where the conflict started and ended.

  
“Sirs?”

  
From beside the doorway, Brandis slapped a hand over the woman’s faux shoulder “Danse, this is the wonderful lady who dragged your comatose crew back inside. At least muster a salute for her.”

  
“Pleased to meet you, Paladin Danse” in spite of her words, she paid little attention to the strange man laying on a bedroll, instead stepping closer to Brandis in an attempt to get her shoulder under his “You’re still limping, sir. Why are you standing?”

  
Brandis let out a small chuff of humored annoyance “Its only arthritis, and our brother needed my help, even if all I can do is yell at you to come help him. I’m afraid there’s not much more that I can do, these damn old bones...”

  
The Initiate paled “Some wounds still aren’t properly set?”

  
Much to Brandis’ chagrin, Spencer hoisted him over her shoulder and carried him bodily to his bedroll. Soon as the man’s feet touched the roll, she was off to the other Paladin’s side.

  
“Hello sir, sorry to be so short with you-“ her voice hitched as she knelt, noticing the small pool of blood welling in his eye socket “Can you still see out of that eye? Could you turn your head for me?”

  
Danse did, the little puddle dripped down the course of his temple and landed with a dull splash on the floor.

  
“Is the medkit still mostly full?” Spencer asked, leaning over Danse’s shoulders to reach the off-white container of ancient supplies.

  
Brandis made an affirming noise off to the side, though his hands became busy with the straps of his pack “Only used the stimpaks, and I have more here.”

  
“You’re a saint, sir”

  
Danse gave a weary smile up at the field promoted sister in arms, trying to hold as still as he could while she swiped at the long, winding cut across his eyebrow and down his cheek. The Initiate took a hold of his jaw, angling it slightly to dab the weakest smelling alcohol she had ever smelled across the cut. His teeth grit, a tiny noise of pain breaking the crushing clamp of his jaw.

  
“Can you open your eye Paladin? It looks like the eyelid is mostly untouched but I need to be sure.”

  
Danse peeked open his right eye and was greeted with a red, stinging liquid pouring in. Soldiering through, he kept the little crack of visibility open long enough for Spencer to peer deeply at the surface.

  
“Good, no corneal trauma.” the Initiate busied herself with butterfly bandages to seal the gash across her superior’s forehead.

  
Brandis made a grunt of affirmation before tapping the broadside of her organic shoulder with the sealed package of a stimpak.

  
“Thank you sir.” A small smile was plastered on Spencer’s lips, gone a second later when she turned to look back at Danse “This will twinge a bit, but I need to pull your eyelid forward a bit while this heals so it doesn’t try to stick to your eyeball.”

  
Danse held still, only barely twitching when his eyelid was tugged slightly by the eyelashes. Then came the prick of a needle by his scalp. A tiny burst of cool relief flooded the area, and dulled out the next four pricks down the length of his forehead and face. His skin was released, and Danse opened his eyes, no longer stinging, to see the woman fussing about the bandages once holding the now healed slit together.

  
Spencer made a click in the back of her throat “That scar could be much worse, especially with how deep it was. Luckily you’re thick boned, sir. Other wise I might have had to mend a rough impact fracture first.”

  
“Frankly soldier, I’m just glad I’m still able to see.”

  
The medicine in stimpaks was, in Danse’s opinion, a marvel of ancient medicine. Already he was feeling the throb in his head die down, and the black fog that had ebbed into his vision was cleared. His stomach let out a growl worthy of a deathclaw. Apparently the effort it took to heal wounds cost him precious calories.

  
“Don’t worry sir” the Initiate said, taking hold of his jaw to hold steady while she cleaned away the last of the caked on blood “Paladin Brandis and I stocked up from Greygarden. We have something for you and your team to eat and drink. Though were running low on snack cakes. Do you know how that happened, Paladin Brandis?”

  
“Don’t get snippy with me, initiate!”

  
Spencer laughed, and the vibration went down her metal arm and into Danse’s bones, warming him to the corr. It made him uncomfortable to say the least.

  
Gladius’ Paladin latched one huge palm over Spencer’s wrists and removed her from his face “Thank you, sincerely. You’ve performed above the call of any Initiate I’ve come to see thus far. I’m sure Elder Maxson will have some honoring words for you… if he arrives."

  
“Speaking of the Elder.” Brandis butt in “That transmitter seems to have done the trick. I got some word from the Prydwen herself just before you almost got in a fight with that Knight out there.”

  
Spencer shook her hands free from the loose grip on her wrists, shooting Danse something just shy of a dirty look for halting her work “I’m not entirely sure what that entails. But I’ll assume its good news.”

  
With a bit more force than perhaps needed, Spencer grabbed at Danse’s jaw again to hold his face still “If you weren’t going to let me finish treating and cleaning the highly radioactive blood from your still healing skin, then you may as well have told me so I didn’t waste the stimpak, Sir.”

  
Brandis made a raspy chortle under his breath, noticing how wide Danse’s eyes went when the wastelander resumed dabbing away blood “Easy, Initiate.”

  
A fresh rag wiped across Danse’s brow, collecting caked blood on the off-white surface. Spencer pulled back slightly, peering down from the Paladin’s face to access the extent of treatment his other wounds had seen.

  
“A little messy, but this shouldn’t do more than a little nerve damage. Tell me how this feels” a tentative metal finger prodded through the slice in his suit to rub across a knot of scar tissue.

  
Danse wriggled slightly.

  
“Hmm, more sensitive than I thought. You should see your scribe about a salve for scar tissue. That may help. Either that or you can see about massaging it to break up the tougher fibers.”

  
With a huff, Danse once again secured her wrists to move them off his body, only to reel when she toppled forward, face suddenly against the floor. Danse dropped her wrists. Spencer made a noise in the back of her throat, something dangerously close to muttering curses against a superior.

  
“Fine. Fine, sir. You can be done. I have my own wounds to attend to anyways, and I should get a look around from the roof.” She stood stiffly, brushing hundreds of years worth of dust from her face. “Paladins.”

  
Just as soon as she had finished the clipped sign off, she did an about-face for the door. A shiny patch of dark, damp canvas marred the otherwise monotonous color of her uniform was exposed to both Paladins, and Brandis made a grunt of effort as though he were going to stop her from walking away. If only he could get up.

  
“Initiate.” Danse spoke up without really meaning to, perhaps out of habit, or perhaps out of the sick recognition of the bloody color on four more flight suits. All long stilled and dried, and Danse was unwilling to risk another body on the pile “Let me help you with that.” 


	2. Aboard the Prydwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the field and back at the floating fortress, Spencer finds herself a little bit more eager than normal to bash in a few feral brains, if only to get back on the ground.

“You were absolutely right sir.” The newly appointed Knight Spencer slurred, clutching tightly to the bucket she had been keeping around just in case “Put me in the field any day.”

  
Brandis chuckled lightly, standing just a bit taller now that Cade had been able to give him some joint pain medication, albeit two hundred and nine years past the expiration date “Well then its good that Danse was so eager to take you under his sponsorship, isn’t it? Seeing as I’m not stepping foot off the Prydwen for a while.”

  
As much as Spencer mourned not being able to actively serve under her Paladin, she would deal with Danse so long as he earned her a ticket off this rust bucket. The further from Knight Winnie and his food the better. Spencer shuttered; how could anyone consider this food? The only thing the pale beige - _pale beige_ \- slop had going for it was that it was mostly radiation free, though that didn’t help keep the barely tolerable lumps of mush down. With a gag, Knight Spencer decided she was reluctant to live in a world without maple syrup and butter for oatmeal, though she would struggle on past the lack of sweets for her son-. Her gut clenched, and the Knight felt everything chest down grow goosebumps from the uncomfortable sensation. She’d rather have radiation poisoning than whatever food poisoning the Winnie had given her.

  
The Knight, clammy and shaky, drooled into her bucket while trying to return her superior’s conversation “Eager?” she took a deep, steadying breath.

  
Or as steadying as one could get in a flammable, tin foil _potato_ filled with sweaty soldiers and muggy air that smelled just the faintest bit like the buoyancy tanks were leaking “Didn’t think he liked me.”

  
“Oh, he doesn’t really like anyone, besides that nice boy Cutler. Shame about him. But he knows a worthwhile soldier when he sees one.” Brandis sat beside the bed the Knight was perched on, and re-secured the band around her non regulation length hair just in case she finally lost the gruel she’d been served in the galley.

“And in spite of you having the stomach of a kitten, you are a good solider: a decent shot, with some training, and a good medic in a pinch. Just don’t tell him that joke about the deathclaw. Sadly he won’t find it as funny as I did.”

  
Spencer coughed, groaning into the bucket with a shallow echo “Thank-“ her mouth clamped shut, and her cheeks bloated.

  
For a moment, Brandis and Rhys- whom had been stalking nearby to keep a not-so-subtle eye on the newcomer- froze in morbid anticipation of every newbie’s reaction to the stuff they served in the mess hall.

Then, she swallowed, followed by a nasally sound of disgust “Jesus, it was bad enough the first time.”

  
Brandis laughed a mirthless, piteous laugh, and clapped the Knight sharply on her back. She did vomit then, and managed to pause the onslaught of… oatmeal..? for just a moment to glare at Brandis with tears in her eyes. Luckily she turned back just in time to save her superior the sight of 210 year old bile sloshing about. Heaven help the old man if he had to witness the way it mixed with the colorful gumdrops she’d eaten earlier. In this case, the rainbow tasted rather vile. She pulled a face that only her reflection in the bucket would ever witness, the thought of fruity candy - or anything really - making her feel even more ill.

  
“You don’t have time for your stomach to settle, Danse is coming around. Try to hurry if you can.” Brandis whapped her on the back once more.

  
Knight Spencer groaned and gagged “Can you ask him to give me a moment. I’d prefer he not see me this way.”

  
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to the food from the mess hall, Knight, I assure you.”

  
Spencer, still with bile and drool dripping down her chin, snapped her head up to see that Danse had somehow snuck up on her while in his 2 ton suit of armor. She looked at him for a moment, watery eyed yet scathing, then vomited once again.

  
“She’ll talk to you in a moment, Paladin.” Brandis said with a dismissive tone, nodding at Danse before shooting a glare at Rhys “I’ll be sure to send her to you if you want to go find her something that isn’t gruel to eat. Poor kid’s had a rough time this past week.”

  
Despite them being the same rank, Danse respected Brandis’ seniority and retreated down the stairs from the Knights’ shared dorm to where he could neddle Teagan for something salty and starchy. Potato chips, Danse decided, would be best for the Knight if they were available. Otherwise he would have to pull a few owed favors from the kitchen staff for a packet of instant noodles. A few more steps, past Ingram with a loose nod of greeting. Right up to the dreaded metal cage and the man himself.

  
“Hello Proctor.” Danse greeted the caged man in his usual clipped tone “I don’t suppose you have something to settle and fill stomachs up for purchase?”

  
Teagan gave a hoarse laugh and tangled a grimy finger in his oily beard “That little _dish_ of a Knight loose her lunch already? God, poor kid. Anyways, I’ve got some mint gum, some snack cakes, a tin of crisps-“

Danse clucked his tongue absently when Teagan listed the last item, and set his armored hand next to the dealing slot “The chips, I fear she’ll be on a mostly snack food diet until she gets a will of Steel in her. She isn’t used to military issued meals.”

  
“More like a gut of lead, Paladin. I swear Winnie wants to poison us all so he’ll get that promotion he’s been vying for. Nothing to stop him from reaching Paladin if there’s nobody left, right? The food is barely good enough for Honorary Knights Scruffles and Spot! Speaking of the quality of food; it came to my attention that your new _protégé_ is a friend of the farmers in the area. Could you talk to her about striking up a deal with them?” Teagan leaned forward upon the question, a hand raised to shield the whisper his voice had dropped to as though he were conspiring the highest treason with the Paladin.

  
Danse nodded stiffly, making his armor rattle “Absolutely proctor.”

  
Teagan slid the tin of ancient potato crisps through the slot, and made a sleazy wink at the Paladin “Tell her it was a gift, hopefully that’ll help convince her of our _charitable_ nature.”

  
It took all of Danse’s gall to squeeze out an ‘Ad Victoriam.’ before pacing off to where his feet decided to take him. He trusted his instincts enough, after all they lead him away from more thinly veiled attempts to seduce some inexpensive food from a Knight he barely knew, and that was a brilliant plan. He began to feel the edge of nausea creep up his throat at the prospect of Teagan unabashedly flirting for a deal with the newest Knight in his squad. Though he doubted any woman, or man for that matter, would be fool enough to enter that cage. Suddenly the newly instilled rule that kept armsmen in their shops all the time made much more sense. Perhaps he could convince the Elder to shut in Quinlan as well. ‘ _Danse_ ’ The Paladin scolded himself ‘ _Quinlan is a valuable member of the Brotherh_ -'

  
“Uhm, Paladin Danse?”

  
With any less control, Danse would have jumped cleanly out of his armor. Instead, he only whipped around to see Knight Spencer, sans bucket, giving him an old world salute. The Knight had cleaned up in the span of time he had been pondering, a clean, newer looking flightsuit was clipped over her instead of the bloody grey, and a collection of what looked like laboriously blackened combat armor had been strapped over her limbs. A smart soldier protected herself, and for that Danse was appreciative; one less thing to teach her. Though, Danse could see, her prosthetic favored a thicker set than her right.

  
“Everything turn out alright?

  
Spencer blanched, and looked as though she would need the bucket once more “The only thing that turned out is my stomach, sir.”

  
Danse, respectively, felt the color drain from his face as well “That’s not what I meant. Sorry-“ he sighed, and was astounded by how quickly he had botched his second impression “Are you feeling any better?”

  
With a thin lipped grin, Spencer nodded almost imperceptibly “Yessir, I’m ready to report for what ever it is I do now?”

  
The sentence ended with a question. Danse held back a sigh of something like frustration. This is why he disliked working with civilians “Well, seeing as you have your armor on I’m going to assume you’ve cleaned your weapon?”

  
Honeygold eyes flicked towards the weapon slung across her back. Survivor’s Special. She swung it around to look at it in all of its glory. The weapon gifted to her by Brandis upon finding him. The savior of Recon Squad Gladius. It was filthy.

  
“I…”

  
The sigh that Danse had suppressed returned with force and found itself blowing steam across the chest piece of his armor “Keeping your weapons in order could save not only tour life, but mean the difference between life and death for your brothers and sisters. Your irresponsibility could have cost us dearly, and I won’t tolerate such an oversight again. Am I clear?”

  
Now the color had returned in full force to Spencer’s cheeks, and she struggled with flickering gaze to get a solid stare leveled at the Paladin. Though after a moment, she landed her gaze just across the scar over his eye and steeled herself “Crystal, sir.”

  
“Outstanding. Follow me and I’ll show you some basic maintenance if you aren't already familiar with the inner workings of you weapon.” Danse took a single step forward, then paused to hand over his acquisition “By the by, these are fo-“

  
There was a clang, and Danse felt his armor lurch slightly before he saw the flash of grey and cream that was his new Knight falling to her ass. She groaned, and clutched a hand over her eye.

  
“God, that’s gonna be black. It’s a good thing I only need the right one.”

  
Danse rather unceremoniously grabbed the Knight by the hook by her collar and hauled her up “I’m guessing you’ve still not gotten your air legs?”

  
“You just usually move really _fast_ in that suit, sir. I was expecting to have to sprint after you.” Her metal hand shot out and seized a plate on his chest for support “Shit, its decalibrated… Just give me a moment…”

  
At that, the Knight took the glove from her prosthetic, and prodded a finger into her right eye. To Danse’s horror, it fell made a high pitched whine and _fell into her open palm._ Only the front, it seemed, looked human: the interior part of her eye was steel with an array of buttons on the back. Her thumb traced over the largest, rounded button on the back of her… Eyeball? And pressed it in. The organ let out another high pitched whine when she popped it back in, blinking experimentally and letting something a bit too thick to be tears ooze from what was now revealed to be a metallic socket. The eyeball rotated in an unnatural way, before snapping front and center with a rapid dilation.

  
“Much better. Anyways, you were saying?” She regloved her metal hand, letting the leather wipe away what looked like lubricant from under her eye, completely oblivious to the fact that the entire deck watched in abject horror.

  
Danse felt his hackles raise at the mechanical sight “Soldier I-“ he looked around, and saw a jumpy Knight with his hand hovering over his pistol “-lets go.”  
With that, the Paladin snatched up her mechanical hand and started to take long strides towards the aft of the Prydwen and far from peering eyes.

  
“Do you want to explain what you just did, Knight? You almost made half the crew loose their lunch, and the other half looked about ready to shoot you!”

  
The Knight pulled her hand free, though her glove was snagged on a corner piece of Danse’s pauldron “What I di… M-my eye?”

  
Danse gave her a scathing look, before relieving her of Survivor’s Special “Of course, that is the kind of horrific thing that we would expect a _synth_ to be able to do, soldier. Explain yourself.”

  
Spencer kept herself from crying, feeling that the tears streaming from only one eye would do more harm than good “An accident. Its for my arm, to help keep it synced with the rest of my body it uses visual feeds from my eye level to coordinate itself with my real arm.”

  
With a resentful swipe of her hand under her eyes to draw away the welling tears, she snatched her pistol back and made a purposeful stride towards the workbench “I will clean this now, Paladin, if that’s all the questions you had.”

  
Both gloves were discarded at the corner of the little rickety workbench, metal and flesh coaxing apart the yellow and black casing to expose the more delicate innards of the weapon. The slightest gap formed between layers of the casing when Spencer slapped her organic palm to her forehead and quickly ejected the cartridge, checking with the weapons synced HUD in her mechanical eye for any readings of ammunition in the barrel.

  
“Good thinking, removing the cartridge is usually something you do first. Its good to see you have enough common sense to not handle a live weapon in such a way.”

  
The standard Knight would have puffed up at such praise from the Paladin, backhanded as it may be, but Spencer merely nodded without looking away from the splitting case. Finally, with a little whine of plastic and metal, the outer parts of the gun split down its seam. Little bits of ghoul, it seemed, had been caked inside if the smell was anything to go by.

  
“That-“ Danse lurked over her shoulder, armor creaking and bumping into the back of her head to point at a particularly loose chunk “-could have been knocked in the way of the refractory lens and caused it to backfire. You don’t want one of these exploding in your hands.’

  
She flicked the scrap of… flesh? Dried blood? Fabric? From the crunch Spencer guess it was one of the first two “I wouldn’t want much of anything exploding in my hands, sir. As you can guess, I’m adverse to hand mutilation in general.”

  
She raised her _mechanical_ hand, and Danse felt just the slightest twinge of embarrassed heat under his collar. Next to her gloves was a slightly oily rag, most likely left by whoever had been cleaning their rifle last, and Spencer snatched it between two fingers before jamming it between the little grates of the heat sync. Dark red flakes sprinkled off and onto the well worn wood as the rag dry scrubbed against what looked more like a scab than a piece of machinery. She leaned in just a bit closer to Survivor’s Special, and tried not to find irritation in the creaking behind her that meant Danse had followed her down, still watching with hawklike skepticism. However, she could look past both that and the large shadow directly over the area she was working on. Only when she felt the hair falling over her shoulder twitch under a particularly deep exhale did her fists clench “You’re in my light, Paladin.”   
Danse shuffled back only a breadth, but it was enough to let Spencer pop her organic shoulder and settle back into rubbing off a particularly rough chunk of ghoul.

  
“God, my stomach still aches.” The rag was left asunder when Spencer brought her hand to her mouth “And this junk isn’t helping.”

  
Almost completely forgetting, Danse set the tin of chips at the edge of the workbench “Would these help you?”

  
The eager little flick of her eyes to his before looking back down at the tin made the Paladin smile in the slightest “Those are for you, if you want them.”

  
“I-“ she brushed her hands against her thighs to get off any of the dried… stuff “I used to eat these to quell morning sickness. Thank you, Paladin.”

  
The tin’s lid creaked when she popped it, and Danse popped an eyebrow “Morning sickness? Do you have a child in the Commonwealth?”

  
Aside from the crunching of the Knight tucking into the tin, Danse heard her choke slightly.

  
“Permission to speak candidly, Paladin?”

  
“Granted.”

  
“I do. _Did_. Maybe still do? But that’s not... Important now. Not anymore. I’ve made my peace as best I can, and now I’m moving forward to make this world safer.” She paused, just for a moment “Those institute bastards will have taken their last child if I have my way about it.”

  
Had Danse’s heart dropped any lower, it may have clanked against his codpiece “Oh… My condolences, Knight.”

  
Spencer crunched through another chip, though it tasted like ash in her mouth. Even the salt had lost its flavor at the prolonged thought of Shaun. The lid found itself replaced on the tin, and the rag was snatched back up. Flakes of grime fell away from the heat sync with vigor as she ruthlessly scrubbed against it. After a few grinding seconds, a slab of the debris fell off, and the copper coil was exposed once again. Spencer brushed the mess into a pile at the edge of the workbench before moving on to balance the refractory lens and polish the surface.

  
“One of those ghouls rammed into me that day. Made me drop my gun. Hasn’t shot entirely straight since then.”

  
Danse grimaced, “Ghouls are disgusting vermin and should be eradicated.”

  
Spencer nodded, not looking up from her weapon “Sorry about the damage that your suit sustained, by the by, sir. I’m not usually so quick to throw people out of their power armor and hop in.” She tried to make light of the situation, but the ache in her side from where the ghoul in armor had busted off a plate still throbbed from time to time.

  
“While I wouldn’t suggest taking lightly the fact that you, in essence, impersonated a Paladin: I fully understand what you did, and I don’t hold it against you.” He shifted slightly on the spot, listening to the metal plates glide over each other “In fact, it was very brave of you to charge out there by yourself.”

  
“Thank you, sir.” Spencer made a little noise of irritation before holding the caseless pistol up and looking through the sights “That should do it... Is there a range for me to test this?”

  
“Only the field, soldier. Speaking of which, finish that up. The Elder has a mission for us to run.”

 


	3. In the lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight Spencer has left the Prydwen, trailing along the road to the institute, marred with blood and bullets

“Damn it!” Spencer all but howled when the first swing of the mutant’s bat clocked her across the front of her chestplate.

  
The impact was enough to send her skidding across the gory and gooey floor, enough to knock every ounce of air from her chest, enough to make her shoulder meet Danse’s armor with a ‘crack’. The metal shoulder, thankfully. The desensitized limb barely twinged at the damage. The thick armor over it was splintered slightly, a gap where the corner of a strut had punctured deep into the fiberglass. As Spencer unhooked herself, she made a not to avoid the direct line of Danse’s path. That could have just as easily been her flesh caught there.

  
“You green bastard!” Spencer managed to roll out of the way of big metal feet before they sidestepped another shot from a mutant “I’ll kill them all!”

  
Feet beneath her, the Knight barreled forward, once again trying to slam against the mutant . The bat swung down to meet her advance, and she only barely caught it in a wobbly grip before wrenching it from the monster’s hands. The mutant, for just a moment, looked human in the expression of confusion. Something akin to fear dripped like visceral spatter over the monster’s face.

  
 _‘Its not human_.’ The moment of hesitation that had creeped frightfully close to stopping Spencer’s bat was shoved aside and slaughtered.

  
“Bleed!” now the bat swung for the mutant’s tiny, ugly face “Bleed and die!”

  
Behind her, a shot rang out , red laser fire burning a hole in the skull of her target. For a moment, as the mutant fell backwards, Spencer froze. A glare was slowly turned over her shoulder, angled at Danse. She locked eyes with the buglike viewports on his helmet, not losing focus when she swung out with the bat and struck the oncoming hound in its fat, flabby face. The wood of the bat splintered, and the hound writhed on the floor, its claws tearing franticly at its own face to get the chunks of wood from its eyes. With a grimace icy enough to freeze the glowing sea, Spencer jabbed the stump of her weapon through the beast’s ribcage. She stood still, not bothering to avoid the spatter of blood that now streaked the front of her uniform.

  
“Nice shot, but I had it handled, Paladin.” She didn’t reach for her pistol just yet, merely swiping at her face with a filthy leather glove to get the chunk of bone off her face.

  
Danse’s face was hidden, but the little twitch in his shoulder hinted to his hackles pricking just slightly “For all I knew your arm was broken. I’m just keeping with my vow to protect you. However I see you’re alright now, so lets move out.”

  
Spencer grabbed at her pistol suddenly, whipping it upwards and firing a shot just barely to the left of the Paladin’s shoulder. A wail broke out, and further down the dilapidated hall, a mutant fell dead.

  
“That was risky, Knight.” Danse warned.

  
“It had a fatman. It was worth the risk, sir.” Spencer retorted.

  
The Knight didn’t wait for a reply, merely advancing over the hulk of the cooling mutant and deeper into the building. She paused at the entrance of an elevator, only moving forward with a huff when the Paladin’s footfalls came crashing closer.

Spencer stuffed a groan behind clenched teeth “God. I always hated elevator music.” She cast a scathing glance up at the dented speaker “Now is not the time for piano versions of the greatest hits from the 1950’s!”

  
The Paladin made a noncommittal noise, a garbled sound through the com speaker in his helmet.

  
“The way you acted up there.” Danse had taken up behind her as they went down the elevator “You must hate mutants as much as I do.”

  
Spencer thumped the side of her pistol against the crown of her head, grinding it against her temple. She steadied herself against the metal walls of the elevator, letting the rumbling bounce her skull off the surface “Hate doesn’t begin to describe my emotions towards them, Paladin.”

  
Danse heard the Knight mutter to herself, and distinctly heard ‘ _Should’ve been me._ ’ Pass bitterly over her lips.

  
“Soldier?” the Paladin inquired as delicately as a two ton metal suit could.

  
Spencer lowered her weapon with a huff, shoulders slumped and one knee wobbling on its joint. She looked suddenly exhausted “I lost a friend… A good friend… To a pack of these-these things not too long ago.”

  
Her metal fist met the elevator wall with a thud that resonated around the tiny space, rending the lights off and the motors squealing to a halt.

  
“Damn it.” Spencer barely let her words come out as more than a breath, pip-boy lighting the area.

  
Where her fist had planted itself was less of a dent, and more of a hole punched through the rusted metal.

  
“I’m sorry, sir. I can fix thi-“

  
Something groaned, ancient metal whining and a subtle vibration running through the suspended elevator. Spencer flung herself onto the Paladin just as the cable snapped. The fall, however, was not flights and flights as she had feared. They were a mere foot from the basement when it gave way; an easily survivable fall.

  
Danse barely shook from the impact, though the force loosened Spencer’s grip on his pauldron just enough to leave her dangling from his shoulder. The lights flicked back on, and once peaceful elevator music resumed its grating serenade. The Knight released her grip, rubber soled boots soundlessly landing on the floor, and the Paladin’s armor sporting a brand new dent in the form of four metal fingers in a death grip.

  
“Knight, I understand, more deeply than you would assume, your hatred for these things. But you can’t let your emotions become a hindrance to our mission.” Had his helmet been off, he may have run a hand through his hair just to smooth down his nerves “That being said, you reacted well to your situation just now. Had the fall been worse, being on my power armor would have helped absorb some of the damage.”

  
Spencer looked down at her hand, sighing gently at the new slice in her glove from where she’s slid against the Paladin’s armor “Sorry about the suit, sir… again.”

  
Danse could barely see the dents from inside his helmet, but it looked mostly superficial “Not a problem. Lets see if we can get the door opened.”

  
With a mechanical whine, the fingers on Danse’s suit ground between the seal of the doors. Gears creaked and shuttered, before the Paladin finally pushed forward and sheered the doors cleanly from their rolling slots. Spencer barely contained a scream when the man pushed solidly through and busted into the open. The door met a solid mass of green flesh when it flew out, and the wall opposite was suddenly painted a gory crimson.

  
“Please tell me you knew that would happen.”

  
Danse shook off a glob of mutant from his gauntlet “Merely a happy coincidence. Lets move out.”

  
With a hum, Righteous Authority quietly flickered to life. Discharge from the shot of pure energy just behind her ports made the weapon emit the barest of sounds. Then the rifle sang her song of death.

_Fwoom fwoomfwoom._

  
“For Elder Maxson!” Danse charged forward, bowling over a mutant with the brunt of his weight and stomping its head in.

  
Spencer shot past him, metal fist ungloved and clenched as she sailed towards the next mutant “For Preston!”

  
The plated prosthetic med skull with a loud crunch, and her fist broke cleanly through the front of the abomination-s skill and through the other side. The body landed with a flop, and the weight stuck to the Knight pulled her down with it. With a growl, she yanked through the cap of the skull. Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Spencer reached to cup just under the dead mutant’s jaw. Its head came off messily, a bit of vertebrae sticking out from the tear. Danse only watched as the Knight jammed one of the five grenades from her pouch into the empty skull cavity. He watched the pin fall like an atom bomb, and the skull get chucked into encroaching mass of green bodies.

  
“Get fucked!” Spencer leveled her pistol at the closest mutant’s feet, shooting out the ankle and making the mob slow just enough for-

  
The gang exploded in a spray of green and red. Danse, with Righteous Authority hanging limply from one mechanical hand, stared for just another moment.

  
“That was needlessly vicious, soldier.”

  
Spencer rounded on him “Those animals are needlessly vicious. And its only just that they find a demise equally as disgusting and inhumane as they live their lives.”

  
“You’re letting your emotions get in the way of the greater goal!”

  
“My _emotions_ fuel me towards the greater goal! Cleansing the Commonwealth! I took out like five with the ammo you used for one!”

  
Danse inhaled to give the soldier the dressing down of her life, when he saw her eyes flick back to the pile. One mutant, more like half, inched his way out of the pile, one arm bent awkwardly and both legs missing.

  
Its bloodied mouth opened in something that sounded too human to be comfortable “Kill me!”

  
Spencer locked eyes with the beast, walking over leisurely before couching down in front of it. A grim smile played over her face “Supermutants… _weak_.”

  
Her gun jabbed itself in the monster’s open mouth “Humans strong.”

  
The bolt rang out, and the beast slumped down with a death rattle.

  
“Lets get those warheads, sir.” Just like that, she stood up and glanced down at her pip-boy.

  
A step to the left. A step to the right. A slight turn, and then a triumphant little _‘yes’_ followed by clicking was all the warning the Paladin got before his protégé paced down the hallway and turned into another room. Danse trailed after her, armor shaking dust from the old building’s collapsing foundations.

  
He rounded the same corned, and found the Knight staring in horror at the walls of armaments.

  
“They’ve had these… so many of these…” nuclear warheads, bite sized nuclear warheads “They could have ended the world all over again…”

  
Dance came up behind her, and rested a metal hand on her shoulder. Emotional fighting be damned, she did her part. “This will serve justice in the hands of the Brotherhood.”

  
Spencer placed her hand atop the Paladin’s “You’re right, sir. Ad Victoriam.”

  
“I don’t mean to pry too much, but I heard you mention a name earlier, Preston, was that-“

  
“The friend that I lost.” Spencer interjected “The finest man I ever had the pleasure of knowing. There one day and-“

  
Spencer ground the butt of her pistol against her temple “-God I can still hear him scream.”

()()()

  
“ _General! Get those settlers out of here!” Preston unloaded another shot into the behemoth’s maw “Go!”_

  
_Spencer unloaded a shot herself, directly into the eye of the beast as it wound back to lob a slab of concrete at her. It fumbled, falling to its knees on the release. The beast fell over dead, and just before General Spencer could celebrate the kill, the off course slab made contact. Preston wailed under the weight, arms scrabbling uselessly against the quickly reddening dirt._

  
_“Medic! On me!” The general launched herself at Preston’s prone form and flung her fist against the chunk of concrete._

  
_It split down the middle, and Spencer rolled half off before kicking the other half over. Behind the General, a young settler screamed. God, Spencer could have screamed too._

  
_“Preston, just-just give me a moment we can-“ she fell to her knees, scrabbling in the earth to loom over her Colonel._

  
_Preston had only short breaths left in him, the weight having crushed barely up to his ribs. Just enough to make one stick out from his body._

  
_“Don’t just stand there!” Spencer screeched at the woman “Help him!”_

  
_The medic dashed over, hands a flurry inches off Preston’s mangled legs, at a loss for what to do._

  
_“General.” Preston wheezed, somehow managing that angelic smile “Don’t act dumb. Its all over.”_

  
_His gloved hand reached up and cradled the scarred curve of the General’s jaw. She mirrored the action._

  
_“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say that! Medic, do something NOW!” she didn’t look away from Preston’s pretty eyes, not wanting to see the color drain from his face._

  
_The medic jabbed a stimpack into Preston’s thigh, making a frustrated noise when the skin barely healed up. Another stimpack, a slightly more frantic noise. Three more, the medic was screaming, cursing and unloading the entirety of her pack into the Minuteman. The General had leaned down to be nose to nose with her second in command, freely weeping on him._

  
_“General, this is happening.” Preston said, the shock making him feel weightless “Don’t waste supplies.”_

  
_“Its not a waste! You could never be a waste!”_   
_Preston blinked, and only then did tears break his waterline “Is it too late to tell you I love you?”_

  
_“God damn it! Don’t say that like you’re not going to be around! Please, Preston, I love you too! Don’t leave me!” Spencer silenced herself by kissing him._

  
_Preston’s arms twitched, god he just wanted to hold her, make everything okay. He’d wanted so much with her. In the final breaths, taken through his nose, he imagined a few little Garvey’s collected by the General’s feet, each with her sharp brow and his dark flushed cheeks. It made his slowing heart beat just that much faster, just for a moment. He blew out his final breath through his nose, fluttering Spencer’s hair._

  
_()()()_

' _Preston was right'_ Spencer thought bitterly ' _its all over, but the crying.'_

She sobbed again, a fist tight in her hair ' _and I cant get over crying over you.'_

  
“Knight?” Danse hand managed to detangle his hand from hers, exit his suit, and brace both hands on her shoulders “Knight are you in there?”

  
Spencer blinked once, twice, clearing out the welling tears and not caring as they carved little trails through the blood on her face “I tried.”

  
Her hands flew up to cover her face “Preston! Oh god-“ she fell to her knees “It was aiming for me. It should have been ME!”

  
Danse took a knee in front of her, reaching out yet again to grab her shoulder “Knight, Spencer. God damn it, tell me how I can help!”

  
Spencer wheezed, and shuttered with a steadying breath, then fell forward against the Paladin’s chest, face uncomfortably against his holotags. With a shuttering sigh, Danse dropped his other knee, ending up sitting on the floor with the newest member of his team bent awkwardly against his shoulder.

  
“That can’t be comfortable.” The Paladin said quietly, trying not to acknowledge the awkwardness of a viable stranger pressed to his chest “Sit down, soldier.”

  
Spencer leaned back obediently, legs unfolding from under her.

  
“I’m sorry, sir.”

  
Danse, perhaps in a lapse of judgement or in a moment of uncharacteristic compassion, hauled the Knight back up against him “We all have our demons, sister.”

  
On the boot of Danse’s armor was a scrap of green skin that caught the Paladin’s eye. He pressed his forehead against the crown of her head and tried not to dwell of that sickly shade of green, or the kinder color of green Cutler’s eyes had been.

  
_“We all have our demons.”_


	4. Metal miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Danse find themselves pinned by an unknown sniper.

“Are you sure we have to give everything to the Scribes?” Spencer pleaded, one hand tapping insistently against the chest plate on the Paladin's armor while the other jealously clutched a set of around the ear headphones to her chest “These are so much nicer than the speakers on my pipboy.”

  
She continued to prod at the expanse of steel, hoping to reach some kind of understanding soul underneath the hard case “This would be great for our missions too! You always complain that Johnny Cash sounds too tinny on my speakers!”

  
The suit of armor retracted, and had Spencer not been sure that it was a small dose of rads to the head, she could have sworn the helmet’s already rather angry looking arrangement of plating took on an even more aggressive glare.

  
“You leave Johnny out of this, Knight. Its our duty to turn in what we find.”

  
Spencer slapped her hand against the metal plane, and it resounded through the empty Bostonian street “Neriah had at least three pairs like this and she's broken all of them! There won’t be any left at this rate!”

  
“Which is exactly why we need to turn them in! Reverse engineering is difficult without something to study.” Danse spun her hand away, sweeping out a gauntlet between her shoulder blades to shove her forwards.

  
Spencer nearly huffed in dismay, setting the headphones around her neck “Next you'll ask my arm of me.”

  
“We do have many soldiers who would benefit from the study of more advanced prosthesis study. Maybe Knight-Captain Cade could look over how to detach it at your next physical.”

  
The headphones suddenly found themselves draped across the Paladin's gauntlet, Spencer backing away, possessively clutching her shoulder “I saw what Neriah did to that synth. No way is she touching my arm.”

  
Danse quirked a brow under his helmet, the static from the suit speakers not drowning out his stern tone “You should have more faith in our mechanics department.”

  
Spencer made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, swinging her leg back to kick at a rusted old can. Something creaked above them, and the Knight flattened herself against the crud caked walls of a crumbling building lining the street.

  
“Paladin. Two o' clock. Second floor. Shiny object.”

  
The Paladin trailed his eyes to where his protégé had pointed out, and a tiny glimmer caught off something reflecting in the second story window “Sniper. Move!”

  
Spencer was long gone, latched onto the wall of a crumbling building and hauling herself up with loose handholds. Across her back, Survivor's Special swung on her leather strap, the new barrel and stock a dark green and unfitting against the grey, red, and white of the base gun. Danse saw the glint shift and dove behind the building's crumbled pile of concrete of a neighbor. The shot never rang out. No bullet tacking and clinking against armor and concrete, no hail of metal falling from the sky to lodge itself in the ancient asphalt.

  
“Paladin-“ Spencer barely breathed out, suspending herself on the ledge of a window and peering through the streaked glass “-its watching us.”

  
Danse didn’t speak, but the gentle incline of his helmet conveyed the ‘it?’

  
The Knight peered through her scope, only daring to peek the edge around the old window pane. Across the way was a man. Pale as death and dressed in black. He watched, and somehow managed to stare directly into Spencer from behind his sunglasses.

  
“Paladin… its not human…”

  
Its rifle was aimed at the Knight’s, a glancing beam of light from the scope casting a blinding blue-white glare across the staredown. Spencer dropped Survivor's Special, the gun clattering inside the building as she toppled backwards into the alleyway.   
As soon as she struck pavement, she quietly hissed. A moment of forced air from aching lungs before she wheezed out “I'm fine.”

  
The Paladin edged out from behind the pile of rubble, his servo catching a loose bit of rubble and sending it clattering across the alleyway. Another blinding glare flashed off Danse's armor, making Spencer wince away. When the light faded, the pale man was just a breath from the Paladin.

  
“Jesus, two point five!” Be it fear or nerves, the man reeled back from what looked to be a pale robot.

  
Spencer had readied herself on her feet, a chunk of loose pipe between her hands, ready to be swung. The robot darted forwards to land a strike against Danse's armor, but only succeeded in stripping the faux skin from his hand.

  
“You won’t get away this time, Winters!”

  
Spencer swung the pipe, the rusted metal directly in the line of a slightly cracked temple casing. Winters? The old mob boss. And… The voice.

  
The pipe clattered to the asphalt “Nick?”

  
The robot turned, glared at her with yellow eyes hot as coals “Don’t play dumb with me, Winters! I know you took her! Where is Jenny?!”

  
Spencer cowered just the slightest, hands raised in a submissive stance “Nick, please. I-I'm Cole! Nicole Walker! Y-you helped me with my sexual assault case!”

  
The machine looked at her gravely, but the grip on it's weapon slacked “Kid. Kid its been hundreds of years. It can’t be.”

  
At the little revelation, Spencer stepped towards the old detective “You remember my ex, right Nick? He tried to snuff me one night while we were playing Scrabble. I had just out down the word ‘Pudding’ and you were about to call me a cheater when the asshole jumped through the window and got caught on the blender chord!”

  
“Never did understand how you made that word when I know for a fact I had all the ‘p’s.”   
Danse was watching with weapon raised at the first run courser.

As it held a reminiscent conversation with his protégé. “Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here Spencer?”

  
She didn’t mind at all, in fact she minded so little that she paid no mind to the paladin whatsoever “Nick. What did they do to you…”

  
Danse was trained on the synth, awestricken and panic stricken as the Knight reached to touch the thing. He himself had only barely beaten a courser before, and that was with his full squad. But this Knight, by herself, neutralized a dangerous target.

  
“The Institute, they're. They’re madmen. I knew as soon as they brought the boy in that they'd gone too-“ Suddenly it screamed, a blinding flash of blue cresting from its neck and down to its fingertips.

  
Spencer drew back, metal arm getting far as it could from the charge “Nick!”

  
“God damn it all!” now the Knight took a knee beside the machine, poking and prodding at a few tubes that had blown out and caused the poor thing to short “What boy, Nick? My boy? Was it my boy, Nick?! Shit!”

  
It seemed whatever had burst caused the bot to crash. Hopefully, and in spite of the Knight not being religious, with a little bit of prayer, it would not be completely toasted. With ever dexterous fingers, Spencer pried open the skull plating and peeked inside everything else looked fine above the neck, just the one spot where the cooling pump burst. Spencer groaned entirely too loudly, and the call of a roused mutant broke the newfound silence. Wide eyed, the Knight flapped a hand to get her mentor's attention “Danse… can you pick him up… Really quietly?”

  
The Paladin grabbed the mech by its head casing and hoisted it overshoulder.

Were Spencer a cat, her back would have bristled at her mentor's bullheadedness “Gently. Quietly and gently.” She sighed then, pointing a finger behind her and pushing herself up “Here’s the plan, were going to-“

  
Danse made a face at the Knight under his helmet “I don’t recall you taking command of this mission.”

  
With a groan, spencer chucked a small stone at the bucket “Mission over! New mission or whatnot! That robot has to get back to my base at Diamond city. I can get my backup gun there and we can see about fixing hi-“

  
“Fixing?” even through the helmet, Danse's disgust was obvious “Why do you want this operational?!”

  
Another stone hit the Paladin's bucket, but this time from the ledge Spencer had climbed up to “Well, I need to fix the Special and he has information on the institute! We’re going! Move out!”

  
Danse mercifully held his tongue, watching as the Knight jumped down and slowly made her way around the building's corner. Then, a moment later, her metal hand appeared. Crooked in a come hither motion, and urging the Paladin forward. Danse sighed, but followed his charge, knowing full well that she knew a good Drop And Give Me Twenty was in her future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't betaread this and I just want this out of my drafts. I'm trying.


End file.
